Check out my photograph in the book: Year Book of the Dead.
With a maggot rot smile, and a quote, but forgot what I said.
Glad somebody wrote it down in ink, still I think I’ll deny
any knowledge of it, fuck yeah, you know I was high.

Dug myself in deep but don’t think that I hit six feet.
Still, I’ll keep diggin, think I will til there’s heat on my heels.
Everybody loves a challenge, but for me, It’s just a matter of meat.
If I amount to nothin’ well nothin was all I could feel.

Got something to die for.
Got a reason to kill.
You trade a god for a country,
and call it divine will.
You a card holdin’ saint?
Then don’t praise me a sinner,
or be something you ain’t.
Fuck the losers and winners,
the fun begins, for me,
at the start
of game over.

I subscribed to a paper by a Pentecostal reverend of Christ.
‘said he was glad to take my money and I didn’t have to take his advice.
Now I’m looking at some victims, thinking- man, it’s good I’m born again.
I’ll get as dirty as I want, cos I’m told I’m forgiven of sin.

One day I went missing, but I never saw my face on the wall
of the local post office, or a kid’s tee shirt at the mall,
so the rats gnaw my coffin and there’s web all over the stairs,
and the ghosts keep talkin out of place, you’d think there’s somebody here.


(Chorus)